


How Large the Moons

by aameyalli



Series: Cadash Stories [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, pavash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aameyalli/pseuds/aameyalli
Summary: Fionn and Dorian leave for Tevinter. (Post-Trespasser, extra epilogue to "Ave Cesaria")
Relationships: Male Cadash/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Series: Cadash Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676107
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	How Large the Moons

**Author's Note:**

> if you didn't come here from "ave cesaria" i strongly recommend reading that first so this makes sense!

It wasn’t easy to find a caravan that would go from Orlais to Minrathous this close to the start of the Tevinter monsoons, especially after the long days waiting for Fionn to be strong enough to travel, the parting games of Wicked Grace and prolonged goodbyes with Varric, Cole, Sera, Harding—and apparently everyone else who’d ever spoken to Fionn or gotten a smile from him across Skyhold’s courtyard. (And then one last extra _secret_ goodbye for Varric, out of Dorian’s earshot. He couldn’t guess what they said to each other but it left both dwarves red and puffy round the eyes.)

But nothing, it seemed, was beyond Josephine’s talents or gold. She got them the caravan, with only one hiccup—they’d have to ride out themselves to the Western Approach to meet it.

They left on a Friday morning. Dorian’s black horse, Keshi, trotted restlessly as Cassandra helped Fionn up onto Maple Sugar Candy’s back (Dorian had expected Fionn’s old mare to be dead, two years on, but here she was, ugly and bony and stinking as ever). Cassandra double-checked every strap of Fionn’s saddle and saddlebags, tucked a few extra weapons in with his bedroll just in case, and otherwise fussed and fumed like a mother dragon. Fionn patted her head reassuringly. She grunted, then said, in a gruff, unsteady voice, “Maker be with you, _sadiqi.”_

 _“_ You too, _salroka.”_

Cassandra turned to salute Dorian and said bluntly, “Pavus.” Dorian let it go. No need to reduce the Seeker to tears with a well-worded farewell. It would be too easy. There’d be no sport in it.

They rode out together with the sun behind them, the Magister and Inquisitor. Dorian resolved himself not to look back. A dramatic exit should come always before sentiment. But as they passed through the Sun Gates of Val Royeaux, he did, and saw the Inquisition watching from the Palace portico, far above and behind them, their figures dark and dwindling against the rising sun.

* * *

Fionn was quiet as they rode. Fionn was always quiet, but it had settled on him different since he lost his arm. New lines were showing around his eyes, drawn by pain. His head seemed heavy. He slumped in the saddle, looking ahead. Always before his eyes would have been roving, delighting in the sunlight, the rise and fall of the Exalted Plains, the short glimpses of flowers, foxes, aravels in the distance. Dorian found himself doing the work of "moon-eyed optimist" on Fionn's behalf.

“Look,” he’d say. “Crystal Grace is in bloom.” Or, “Do you think those are the same Dalish we met? Shall we call them over for scones and coffee?” Or, “It’s quiet here without the rifts. Perhaps we should start a wildfire or a two-man improv troupe, just to add some spice.” Fionn would smile at whatever he said, then fade again. Dorian hoped Minrathous would lift his spirits.

It took five days to reach the eastern boundary of the Approach. Keshi and Maple carried them up a steep rise, tufted with dry sage scrub, and the desert yawned before them, the Plains behind. Hundreds of miles of Orlesian wasteland in every direction. No sound except their horses’ heavy breathing and the hiss of air over sand. It was simply barbaric. To think that Dorian had almost _missed_ the South.

They kept going west. The sun was white and punishing, the wind sharp with dust. Dorian was wilting. Fionn was worse. He rode hunched forward against Maple’s neck, shivering despite the heat. When they camped at night he fell asleep by the fire right away, wrapped in every blanket they carried and Dorian’s cape for good measure, and cold sweat beaded on his face. But he would never ask to turn back.

Another five days to cross the Approach. It passed in a haze of red hot rock, sand, heat, worry. Their pace was steady.

On the last night before they met the caravan, they made their camp in the Hissing Wastes. The silence was huge. The stars were millions and far away. The moons were close, both of them full, so wide and white that the dunes turned silver and the sand sparkled like lyrium dust wherever it was stirred up. For the first time since Val Royeaux, Fionn stood away from the fire, breathing deeply and happily. He was looking up at the moons.

Dorian went to him. “You love it here,” he said softly. “Isn’t that what you wrote to me? Your favorite place in Orlais.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I can’t fathom why. It’s a great cold pile of dust. I’ve never been anywhere more lonesome and dull.”

Fionn leaned to the side, and tipped his head gently against Dorian’s arm. “Look at the moons,” he said.

“I can hardly avoid looking at the moons. They’re _crowding_ me.”

Fionn chuckled.

“You’re awfully chipper tonight,” said Dorian. “Is the pain—?”

“It’s on its way out.” His face was soft, relaxed, glowing in the moonlight. “Think I’d like to take an evening constitutional.” He offered his elbow. “C’mon with me.”

Dorian took his hand instead. They walked into the desert. Not far from camp, but it didn’t matter. There was no one else here. Their little fire was the only sign of life for miles. They hiked up a sand dune, bleached white by the moons, and it felt like they were walking up straight into the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr at @hawkepockets!


End file.
